


Still Good

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fingering, M/M, Mentions of Squirting, Smut, Trans Cisco, Trans Male Character, minor comeplay, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He only stops when Cisco is panting and when tears are pricking at his eyes from overstimulation. </p><p>“Still good?” Len asks again, though he’s pretty sure of the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Good

**Author's Note:**

> got struck by a random idea the other day and couldn't get the image out of my head, so here--have some trans cisco getting fingered. not beta'd.
> 
> enjoy!

“Are we really doing this? Am I really doing this?” Cisco’s voice is barely more than a whisper; his tone spread thin from the force of his rapid, shallow breathing.

Len bites back his immediate response: one that he knows is too sharp for the moment. Instead, he takes a deep breath of his own before replying.

“Are you _really_ talking aloud to yourself?” He asks. He keeps his drawl lighter and softer than usual in an attempt to soothe Cisco. It’s a joke, but not a cruel one. It’s light-hearted and easy and the tension in Cisco’s body gives just a little.

Len leans forward and kisses the base of Cisco’s neck, then leaves a trail of kisses until he reaches Cisco’s ear. He tugs on the lobe with his teeth before speaking again.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not sure.”

Cisco scoffs as though Len is joking.

“I’m serious,” Len assures. They may be clad in t-shirts and boxers, and they may be curled around each other in bed, and they may both be _excruciatingly_ turned on—but that doesn’t mean this has to happen. He’s plenty happy to jerk off in the bathroom if it meant making Cisco more comfortable. Kisses and rutting together like desperate teenagers has been plenty for Len so far, and he’s fine with having only what Cisco is willing to give.

Cisco takes pause then, his body stiffening for a second before relaxing again. “I want to.”

Len nods, “I know you do,” and god does he ever feel his age in this moment. There’s sixteen years between them and sometimes Len feels every single one weighing like an anchor dragging him down. Where he’s bitter and jaded, Cisco is far more often delighted and hopeful. Where Len is admittedly skilled with little left to learn in the bedroom, Cisco still hasn’t explored much of his own body and still has so many reservations built up.

“I know you want to,” Len says again. “But are you _sure_?” He keeps his voice sharp and piercing. “I’m not doing this unless you are absolutely certain it’s okay.” He tightens his arms around Cisco’s torso and hugs him close.

Cisco’s own hands rise and cover Len’s. He’s silent while he decides, but his breathing evens out and Len takes it as a good sign.

“I want this,” Cisco declares again, “I’m sure.”

Len nods.

“But…can we just take it slow?” Cisco’s voice drops to a barely-there whisper again. He practically hides his face in his pillow, though he isn’t really ashamed. He’s got nothing to be ashamed of, he knows that. It’s just hard to remember, sometimes, especially when his mind is a mess of nerves and anticipation.

“Of course,” Len says softly. “Lay on your back.”

Cisco obeys once Len’s arms unwind from him. Cisco rolls onto his back and Len leans up on one elbow, and their eyes lock.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Okay,” Cisco nods after a noisy, nervous swallow.

Len smiles and then leans down to kiss Cisco. The kiss is slow, but wet, and deep, and lewd. Len licks into Cisco’s mouth with greed but not force. He groans when Cisco’s lips part for him and Len takes up his favorite task of memorizing the taste of Cisco’s mouth. Len reaches up and cups Cisco’s jaw, guiding him, tilting his head just so to get the best angle. Cisco is whimpering and moaning into his mouth, and Cisco’s hands are knotted in the fabric of Len’s shirt.

Eventually, Len pulls back and admires the kiss-swollen flush of Cisco’s lips. “Still good?”

Cisco nods dazedly.

Len grins, “good.”

Still propped up on his elbow, Len moves his free hand from cupping Cisco’s face to dance his fingertips down Cisco’s neck, along the collar of his shirt, over his fabric-clad chest. Catching Cisco’s gaze, Len traces the scars he knows lie beneath the ridiculously dorky shirt. He follows the scar until he can pinch at an already stiff nipple, and relishes Cisco’s answering gasp.

Cisco arches into the touch with a shudder. Len keeps toying with one nipple before moving to the other, and back again. He keeps alternating, watching as wave after wave of shudders roll through Cisco’s body. He admires the way Cisco’s long, sleek hair falls onto the pillow every time he tosses and turns his head, overwhelmed by the feeling. Cisco’s nipples are absurdly sensitive, something Len takes immense delight in.

He only stops when Cisco is panting and when tears are pricking at his eyes from overstimulation.

“Still good?” Len asks again, though he’s pretty sure of the answer.

Cisco just nods again. A belated shudder wracks his body before he settles again.

Len hums and lets his hand continue exploring Cisco’s body. “I have to wonder…” Len drawls, “…If I could make you come _just_ by playing with your nipples, so sensitive, Cisco.” Len presses a wet kiss just below Cisco’s ear.

Cisco moans, loud and uninhibited. “Oh god, please.” His legs spread and Len has to wonder if he even meant to do that, or if his mind is just too foggy with pleasure to notice.

“Mm,” Len pretends to consider it. “Not today. I’d much rather get my fingers inside of you,” he purrs in Cisco’s ear. “I want to feel you coming around my fingers, clenching and hot and _so_ wet.”

Cisco whimpers and finally moves more than the writhing he’s been doing. He reaches up a hand and cups the back of Len’s head, not pulling him closer or pushing him away, just holding him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Len murmurs. His fingertips finally reach the hem of Cisco’s shirt and he slips his hand underneath the fabric.

Cisco’s breathing hitches in anticipation, and Len decides not to disappoint. He returns his touch to Cisco’s chest and pinches a still pebbled nub, just one, with no fabric to separate their skin, just enough to wring a gasp out of Cisco.

“Len, _please_ ,” Cisco begs.

Len kisses the spot beneath Cisco’s ear again and obliges, letting his touch skitter across Cisco’s stomach and hips before reaching the waistband of his boxers.

“Still good?”

Cisco groans and his grip on Len’s neck tightens enough for his nails to bite into the skin. “ _Yes_ , please, touch me.”

Len leans closer and kisses Cisco on the lips again, not as deep as before but leaving him just as breathless. Len doesn’t say anything else and instead slips his hand under the band of Cisco’s black boxers. The legs of the underwear cling to Cisco’s legs with sweat, and the fabric across his groin is damp from a combination of sweat and come. Len heaves a shudder of his own, a delighted, eager one, as his fingers skim past Cisco’s clit down to the flushed lips of his labia.

“God, Cisco,” Len hisses at the feeling of wiry hair under his fingertips. “You’re so hot,” and it’s true, not just in the sense that Cisco is unbelievably attractive but also in the sense that heat is radiating from his intimate skin in a way that has Len’s own mind going fuzzy. It’s heady to be allowed to touch Cisco this way. It’s far from the first time for Cisco—he’s not a virgin, Len knows this—but Len has every intention of making this Cisco’s _best_ time.

Cisco shudders and his legs fall open a little wider. “Please,” he says again.

Len noses along Cisco’s jawline; he inhales sharply and takes in the scent of sweat layering Cisco’s skin. He keeps massaging his fingers over Cisco’s plump lips before finally letting a finger slip between them, immediately feeling the wetness that’s gathered between them. He’s so wet, Len’s brain stops short for a second.

Cisco picks up on his hesitation. “I—I told you I want this,” Cisco reminds him. “I’ve been like this since you asked to come over.”

“Fuck.”

Cisco grins with brightly flushed cheeks. “Please do,” he teases. And though there’s a wavering note in his voice, Len knows it’s less nerves now and more excitement, eagerness, neediness.

Len just nods, letting his stubble scrape across Cisco’s cheek. “Okay.”

He runs his middle finger through the slickness that’s leaking from Cisco. He massages the oversensitive edges of Cisco’s entrance, relishes the rhythmic gasps he gets in response, before shifting focus. He moves his hand to press his wet fingertip to Cisco’s clit and rubs the skin gently.

“Oh—oh shit,” Again, Cisco’s nails bite into the skin of Len’s neck. “I—how can it feel so different with you?” He asks through gasps for air.

Len attempts to shrug. “Because you love me?” He asks, and though it might seem like a taunt it’s hardly in jest. “Because I love you?” Len asks in a lower octave, heart jackhammering in his chest. He keeps his fingertip on Cisco’s clit and moving in slow circles.

Cisco splits into a bashful grin. “Yeah,” he agrees, “that’s probably it.” He rolls his hips into the touch and sighs. “It’s—I want to come like this, but I want you inside me too.”

“Just wait till I can get my tongue on you,” Len teases. His hand shifts inside Cisco’s boxers again, this time spreading his lips and pressing his finger in long and slow. Cisco’s body tenses for a second, then releases. He’s so wet that once the momentary tension subsides, Len’s finger slides in easily. He pushes in then pulls almost entirely out before repeating the process.

“L-Len, shit.” Cisco tosses his head to the side again, black hair fanning out across the pillow. His face is pink and his lips are still swollen from kissing. His breathing is shallow but not panicked. He looks like the definition of divine.

“I’m going to add another finger,” Len warns. He waits until he gets a jerky nod before doing so; he pulls out his finger again and slides his ring finger in as well on the next push in.

Cisco moans at the feeling and the walls of his vagina clench around the delightful intrusion. “Oh god.”

“Len will do just fine.”

Cisco huffs a laugh that turns into a moan when he clenches again and a spark of pleasure buzzes through his body. He throws an arm over his eyes and uses his grip on Len’s neck to tug him closer. “Please kiss me. Fuck me,” he hisses, tilting his head away to expose the long lines of his neck.

Len moves his two fingers at a careful, measured, maddening pace. He pushes in deep and pulls out until only his fingertips linger inside Cisco. Each time he slides his fingers in again, he presses them against the slick, hot walls, searching for that slight change in texture—searching for the spot that will have Cisco losing his mind. Len curls his fingers in the ever cliché ‘come hither’ gesture and gets a stuttering gasp for his troubles.

“Oh— _fuck_.”

Len grins. “Good?”

“So good,” Cisco agrees. He shivers as Len starts to kiss softly at his neck, but doesn’t tense up again. He relaxes into Len’s touch easily and lets the sensations overwhelm him. He can’t help the stream of breathy sighs that keep tumbling from his lips every time Len’s fingers move just right inside him.

“You should touch your clit, Cisco,” Len huffs against Cisco’s skin. “I want you to come.” He punctuates his statement with speeding up his fingers, moving in circles across the extra sensitive skin inside Cisco.

Cisco just nods and takes his arm away from his face. Len watches his expression change: Cisco’s eyes are blown wide, black nearly overwhelming the brown and his face is burning pink. Len watches Cisco’s hand follow the same path Len’s had until Cisco’s hand joins Len’s inside the boxers.

Meeting Len’s gaze, Cisco presses two dry fingers to his clit and starts to rub, trying to match Len’s speed and rhythm. Their hands nearly bump one another as they both speed up, their gestures quicker but less restrained. They fall out of a rhythm the closer Cisco gets to coming, adrenaline and pleasure shaking them both to the core.

Len can feel his cock straining in his own boxers and how it’s pressing obscenely against Cisco’s hip. He doesn’t pay it much mind, though, instead much more focused on Cisco. He concentrates on keeping his fingers moving and sucking as many hickeys as he can into Cisco’s neck. He knows he’s putting them too high up, too far above the collar of his shirt, and Len doesn’t really care. He _wants_ people to see, he always does. He wants Cisco to see them and touch them absent-mindedly, like he always seems to. Len likes knowing Cisco is thinking of him, of _this_.

“Len, I’m close,” Cisco manages to warn though he’s gasping for air. Len can feel the way Cisco’s thighs are tense and twitching. Cisco’s toes are curling in the sheets and he keeps biting his own lip to tamp down on the endless stream of moans coming from him.

“Let me here you, Cisco,” Len says against Cisco’s sweat-slick skin. “I want you to come for me, all over our hands, and I want you to _scream_ my name.”

Cisco’s whole body goes tight like a bow as he comes. He arches up and his hand moves frantically and desperately against his clit; the walls of his vagina pulse around Len’s fingers and even more slick come clings to Len’s hand. Cisco is soaking wet and soft inside, and for a split second Len entertains the idea of sliding his cock into the heat.

“Len—!” Cisco’s moan devolves into another sigh as the aftershocks of his orgasm roll through him. His hips keep rolling against his own hand and down on Len’s fingers. Len watches Cisco ride out the orgasm with a reverent gaze. He watches Cisco’s hair cling to his forehead. He watches the damp spot in Cisco’s boxer grow just a bit, and Len loses himself in the scent.

Eventually, the pleasure subsides into nothing more than brief tingles, exacerbated only when Len pulls his hand back.

Cisco watches him with sleepy eyes, a spark of renewed desire igniting in his gaze as Len licks his fingers clean. “Let me help you out,” Cisco breathes.

Len shakes his head. “Relax, just,” Len clutches Cisco’s hip with one hand and ruts against his side. “S’not gonna take long, just let me—?”

“Yeah,” Cisco agrees, sinking against the bed again, feeling boneless. “Next time, I want you in my mouth,” Cisco mumbles. His voice might be clogged with sleep and his eyes might be drooping, but his gaze is trained unwaveringly on Len’s cock pressing at the seams of his boxers.

Len groans and presses his forehead to Cisco’s shoulder. “Fuck, Cisco.”

“That too—not next time,” Cisco’s voice is small for a split second before regaining confidence, “but someday, probably soon. I want to feel you inside me.”

Len’s hand flexes on Cisco’s hip and he grinds his body against Cisco’s faster, harder, more desperately.

“You should take off your boxers,” Cisco murmurs, “come on me.”

Len barely manages to get a hand at his waistband, abandoning his grip on Cisco’s side, to yank his underwear down far enough to expose his rock hard cock. Without the friction of his boxers driving him over the edge, Len grips his cock instead and jerks himself off. He doesn’t look, face still pressed against Cisco, as he smears precome across Cisco’s side, relishing the possessive flair in his gut.

“You’re so wet, I want—fuck, _fuck_ ,” Len thrusts into his own grip as his train of thought derails. He’s a little distracted by the feeling of Cisco’s nails scraping across his scalp, the scent of come and sweat that fills the room, but it all tips him closer to coming anyway.

“I want to come when you fuck me,” Cisco says, pressing an oddly gentle kiss to Len’s temple. “I want to _squirt_ ,” he clarifies, and his voice shakes again, as though the thought itself is overwhelming. “I want you to _make_ me squirt.”

Len groans and bites down on the ball of Cisco’s shoulder. He sucks on the skin as his cock pulses, his come shooting out in thick streaks on Cisco’s stomach. He pulls back and kisses at the mark he’s left behind, a blooming purple bite mark that makes Len feel almost ready enough to go another round.

He sits up a bit and stares at Cisco’s dopey grin. “We should shower,” Len admits once he’s caught his breath again.

Cisco scoffs. “Whatever, too tired.” He rolls, not caring of the come sticking to his stomach or how it smears on the sheets, and inserts himself into Len’s grasp. “We can shower in the morning.”

Len snickers to himself but doesn’t argue. He curls his arms around Cisco again and settles in. “Alright, you win,” he drawls.

He can feel Cisco’s grin against his neck. “I always do.”

“It’s going to your head,” Len observes.

Cisco shrugs. “You like it.”

Len fakes a put-upon sigh. “I suppose I do.” He and Cisco laugh together until the latter dozes off, mid-giggle. Len kisses the top of Cisco’s head as his quiet snores fill the room. Eventually, he falls asleep himself, a dopey grin of his own firmly in place.


End file.
